Go Bull Dogs!

Since being at the University of Arkansas, my pal Brain has really embraced the Razorback culture. He can quote stats and talk about the football coach for many minutes. He even met someone named (from birth) Ray. Middle name: Zorback. Put it together and you'll see that their fans are a little bit more hog-wild than our polite Colby White Mule fans. This logo (below) is actually a little tougher than the one that was presented when I was in college. I tried to find the older logos that was a cartoon of a horse-type animal with a big head and little body. Its eyes were huge as if opened in fear, pleading, "Please don't hurt me." They were kind and sad eyes.

Since being a new student at UNC Asheville with my 3 credit hours, I think I'm going to follow my friend's lead and embrace our little UNCA Bulldogs.

I'm only going to wear blue and white on the day of the "big game." Who knows if that big game is football or gymnastics or basketball. Hey, UNC-Chapel Hill is pretty good at basketball, right? I think that the sports fans don't actually call it "UNC Chapel Hill," though, I think they just call it "Carolina." Right? So is UNCA called "Carolina: Westside?"

There's so much to learn! I'm going to the bookstore to buy some drink cozies, little pom-poms and a stadium seat. GO TEAM!

.....

Actually, I think I need to reconsider this for a moment. My hesitation lies not in a lack of school spirit (I just thought of this cheer, "We're more than OK.. we're UNCA!"), but in the hyper-macho way that the bulldog looks.

I know that it's silly to put so much thought into the logo, but I love that branding stuff. I love clever packaging designs, posters, and book jackets. I do judge (and buy) books by their covers.

I used to read Adbusters for its anti-consumption stance, but then I discovered that I like it more for its artistic design. I like clever design, regardless of whether its intended to make me buy a belief or buy a burrito.

So when I started to look up these logos, I started to notice things like the little drip coming out of the Razorback's nose as if it were exhaling so violently that it spewed spit. Notice the eyes on the three logos on this page. I would describe them in this order: 1. scary and agressive 2. intelligent and discerning 3. insane and macho. I don't like those mean mascots. I'd rather have the confident and calm one like our sinewy mule.

Now, I know I'm not a competitive athlete (someone has to come in last place, right?), so maybe I'm missing something about how these mascots inspire the Venus Williams of the world. For all of you athletes out there... any thoughts? Maybe I'll go buy a REAL bulldog to inspire my school spirit.

Until then, I think I'll look into the Student Government Club.

ECON101

I've just started my macroeconomics class at UNC Asheville. On the first day of class (after getting my student id card and being blown away by the $140 softcover textbook that we need to buy for the class), I really had to focus on being present.

The professor started class by asking each student, "And, what is your major?" (maybe I just imagined that over-emphasized "h" in "what...") as he took attendance. As the freshmen Claires and Calvins droned, "business" or "accounting," I considered what (or what) I would say.

I decided to follow the lead of the other non-typical student. This man, who sat in the front of the class, must have been at least 70 years old. When the professor called on him, however, he said, "Undecided" like some of the 18 year old Joeys who were wearing UNCA sweatpants.

What the hell? Was he serious or taking a piss out of the professor? I considered the sarcasm and coolness factor of this guy and decided that he was serious. Which was even funnier. As Alyssa said, "Geez man, if you haven't decided by now..."

Finally, it was my turn. I said, "I'm a non-degree seeking student" (using my registration classification for the terminology). He asked me to explain my intentions with this class and I replied that I was considering going to graduate school for business. He replied something like, "Ah, yes."

As the professor began talking about markets and rhetoric, I found my mind wandering to thoughts about these Transformers Reebox sneakers that I saw in ID Magazine and how I need to be more assertive in TAASC meetings. I felt like my brain and intention (ah yes, for an MBA someday) was meditating on his words-- to take good notes and understand this new discipline-- while my mind, eyes, breath, and kidneys were working on thinking about style, bluebirds, rock climbing, and iced tea. At one point, I had to consciously refoucus these truant thoughts.

I could tell by his ability to quote philosophers and economists in every other sentence that this professor is smart. At times I felt tempted to ask him how to spell the words he was saying so that I could look them up when I got home. Because I was so out of my element, I thought about bringing some of my academic expertise into the classroom.

I was thinking about breaking out a little, "Whan that Aprill with hise shoures soote... " since I had to memorize it for a Chaucer class in college. And I don't even have that memorized that well; I had to call Alyssa tonight to ask her how to spell that Middle English. Luckily, she keeps her Canterbury Tales near the telephone. (By the way, I wasn't surprised that Alyssa had it right there since she, according to Professor Narin Van Court, "had one of the best Middle English accents" that she's ever heard... I think Lyssie might start a roundtable Chaucer reading club and call it Speculum Vitae II.)

I only considered, "The droghte of March hath perced to the roote/And bathed every veyne in swich licour/Of which vertu engendred is the flour..." for a minute since I didn't know how to link this Prologue into the professor's stories of the Industrial Revolution and Marxism... maybe I can write something called "The ECON101 Professor's Tale" in Middle English about utility, demand, and unemployment. I'll need Lyssie's help for the translation.

After reading an article for homework, I think I am starting to understand how to weave storytelling into economics. It's what Ben Bernanke does, right?


*One more note: in order to learn "business smarts" experientially (thanks, Outward Bound!), I'm slacking a bit academically. You see, I've only done half of my homework assignment that is due tomorrow because I found the same $140 textbook online for $69.82 plus shipping and handling. Right now I'm waiting for that shipping and handling charge to pay off.

Bettin' on Baby

My good friend Sarah is about to have a baby. It should be a good one, since Sarah and Charlie are fabulous.

Because we have bets on the due date, I hope she waits until the 22nd of January (down to the hour would be nice, but I'll take what I can get). There's a trophy involved.

The fact that Charlie suggested that we bet on Sarah's due date doesn't really surprise me since a wager has already been made on this baby... way back in 2001.

You see, Charlie and Nate were throwing rocks at a stump. Nate made the wager that if he hit the stump, he'd get: naming rights to Charlie's first born child and the right to have said child after his or her 8th birthday. (Nate didn't want the hassle of those first few years.)

Charlie lost the bet and Nate declared the child's name to be Sponge.

Sarah and Charlie were dating at the time, and they got married a couple of years later.

So about 9 months ago, Nate was visiting me in Asheville. It was a beautiful Saturday, so we went out to breakfast at the West End Bakery with all of the children under the age of 4 in West Asheville (and their parents, clearly). The bakery was brimming with board books and baby bjorns. As we were sitting outside, I asked Nate, "Do you think Sarah and Charlie will have a baby soon?"

Nate replied, "Ooooooh, I'm not ready."

I said, "Nate, you have 8 years to get ready..."

Later that day, Sarah called to tell us that she was pregnant.

Jump forward to last night. Sarah and I were talking about the birthdate bet, and I told her that one of two options would be ideal:

1. She holds off until January 22nd (I'd like that trophy...) or

2. She has the baby today (January 16th). It's Nate's birthday; he'd have an easier time remembering Sponge's birthday if Sarah have her baby today.

Sarah has always been the most grounded, wholesome, and logical of our friends. She could give us advice, cut our hair, and fix a car all within the same day. She's the beautiful mediator who smoothed me over when Nate spit in my face back in college. (Granted, I did tell him I had whooping cough and coughed on him... ) Sarah also understands the importance of bets in our lives.

This is all to say that I'm sure Sarah would help us all out.

She'd help Nate by having the baby today.

Or help me out by holding out until the 22nd.

And of course she'd help her husband out by helping him uphold his end of the bet.

Sure, she'll miss baby Sponge after his or her 8th birthday, but Sarah's that type of wonderful.